Author's Note: Thanks so much for the continued support!
Chapter Twenty-Nine: "Paradise Lost"
"It is called Forbidden Fruit."
"I can see why." Lucy stepped back from the easel and found herself practically pacing around the painting, trying to study it from different perspectives. What it lacked in old world charm it more than made up for in passion, intensity. She could imagine the artist had profoundly felt the loss of paradise himself. That personal connection was something she thought she lacked in her own artwork. It was one thing to be technically proficient, but to actually feel the subject, to become one with the piece, was another matter altogether.
Ephraim's fingertips moved down her bare arms. "In all your years, have you ever seen quite as spectacular a rendering of the original sin?"
Lucy's eyes followed the brushstrokes, down to the deep red of the apple, and felt a chill. "It seems to almost come off the canvas."
"I thought so, as well." Seeing her goosebumps, he wrapped his arms around her, and she leaned back against his broad chest. Safe. Strong. The last few weeks had been a whirlwind of pursuit, of attentiveness, romance.
But she wasn't quite lost in his touches yet. The painting—and what it represented—troubled her. It tugged at that minute part of her that by nature looked for the what-if, the catch, the fly in the ointment. "I wonder if it was worth it. To gain knowledge only to lose paradise."
His lips trailed along her neck, even as he felt for the zipper on the back of her dress. "It's human nature to want what we cannot have. We lust for it, would kill for it. Fortunately, I already have my heart's desire."
The dress fell to a heap on the floor and she turned to face him. His eyes drank her in. "You're beautiful."
Lucy was not shy about her body, but sometimes his attentiveness could be overwhelming. "You say that now. We'll see how you feel in fifty years when I'm old and gray."
His hand found hers and toyed with the large diamond ring she wore. "Fifty. A hundred fifty. It makes no difference. You will be beautiful to me. Young."
"Right," she laughed. "I'll always be younger than you, but young? Not quite."
"Marry me tonight."
She protested lightly, not taking his words seriously. "We can't get married tonight. It's late and it's too soon!"
He pressed a quick kiss to her lips before saying, "I adore your contradictions. How can it be late and soon?"
She groaned in exasperation as she pulled her hair up in a makeshift bun and padded to the large bathroom to wash her face and brush her teeth. "There is no one to marry us this late at night. Besides, don't you want to enjoy the engagement? It's too soon." She grabbed his over-sized bathrobe.
He followed her and leaned against the counter next to where she stood. "It's not soon enough. You let me make love to you. Why won't you let me marry you?" She opened her mouth to protest again, but he lifted his finger and placed it over her lips. "Consider the painting a wedding present."
She laughed. "You are so old-fashioned."
"And you are so thoroughly modern."
Her blue eyes considered his green ones. "How can I say no to you?"
"That's just it. You can't."
"I'm going to town." The whirlwind had settled.
"The police station again?" Ephraim asked as he sat up in bed. He grimaced slightly.
"Your back?" she asked upon seeing his expression. She walked to the bedside and pressed her hand against his skin. "The scar is so warm."
"Your touch improves my outlook."
"I still wish you would see the specialist I consulted."
Ephraim looked at her patiently. "There is no specialist for this, and you never did answer my question."
"You noticed," Lucy replied with a wry grin.
"I notice everything about you." He spoke with the intensity that she found so irresistible when they had first met.
She nodded. "I am going to station."
"A dreary place and too early. I wish you could find the inspiration to do more than police sketches."
Lucy frowned. "You told me you wanted me to get involved with the community, so I'm involved. It's quite different from New York."
"I didn't rescue you from the dredges of the East Village for you to squander your talents. Have you even painted anything lately?"
"First, you didn't rescue me. I was doing quite fine on my own before you started throwing lavish gifts my way—"
"And you threw them back in my face, as I recall."
At that, she had to smile. The beginning of their relationship had not been without its bumps. "Second, I provide a valuable service to this community."
"Garland Wuornos seems to think so."
She paused. "Why did you just do that?"
"Do what?"
"The way you said his name. 'Garland Wuornos'" She imitated his accent as she said the name, echoing the distaste Ephraim exhibited. She flopped down on the bed beside him. "Are you jealous?"
"Of a man who wears a polyester police uniform and is barely intelligible when he speaks? No."
"You are," Lucy grinned. "You shouldn't be, you know. My heart only belongs to you. My heart. My body."
He pulled her atop him to straddle his hips. "Your soul?"
"Well, that I don't just give away to anybody." She wriggled away from him, got up off the bed, walked to the ample closet, and pulled out a patterned dress. He watched as she zipped it. While modest in coverage, it hugged her slender form in all the right places.
"You are really leaving?"
"I told you. I have work to do at the police station."
"Lucy, I insist you stay out of harm's way and, for God's sake, don't do anything to draw attention to yourself."
"Ephraim, I can't ignore when someone has a…problem."
"For your preservation and mine, you should."
When Lucy entered the bullpen, her eyes immediately went to Garland's desk, but he wasn't there. Instead, a woman whose movements struck Lucy as graceful stood near it, leaving a note of some kind on the desk. A little boy sat in the office chair spinning in circles.
She didn't have the time wrong, did she?
Lucy approached the desk, suddenly finding herself very curious about the lovely woman who, on closer inspection, was identical to the woman in the framed photo on Garland's desk.
This must be Holly.
With all the putting out of fires—literally and figuratively—that she and Garland did, it was easy to forget that he had a life outside of the Troubles, just as she did. He was a man with a family, and what a beautiful family it was.
The woman immediately greeted her. "Hi, you must be Lucy. I've heard so much about you. I'm Holly. And this," Garland's wife looked down at the little boy who was spinning in his father's swivel chair, "is Nathan." Holly stopped the movement of the chair and was rewarded with a frown.
Lucy knelt and extended her hand. The little boy hesitantly took it. "Pleased to meet you, Nathan. I'm a friend of your dad's. Can I tell you a secret?"
That perked the little boy's attention. "What?"
"I used to like to twirl in these chairs, too."
"Will you spin me?" he asked.
Lucy looked to Holly, who nodded.
"Sure. Hold on tight." With that, Lucy spun the chair, much to the delight of the little boy who laughed without reservation.
"Faster! Faster!" he demanded.
"We should go." The gravelly voice cut through the air, directed at Lucy. "Heard there were some strange things happening at the Glendower compound." No hello. No acknowledgment of his family.
"Garland—" Holly's voice was almost plaintive, as though she wanted to say more. "Be careful out there."
"Always am," he replied, as he grabbed his hat off corner of his chair.
"Except when you're not," Holly retorted with a melancholic smile. She pressed the note she had been writing into his hand, and he quickly stuffed it into his breast pocket.
"Bye, Daddy! Bye, Lucy!"
Lucy looked back at the little boy, whose toothless grin made her heart clench. But it was the expression on Holly's face that gave her pause.
"Your family is beautiful."
"Yep." Rain clouds were forming overhead. The roads to the Glendower compound were not easy to traverse. Nasty weather wouldn't make it any easier. He reached for a cigarette, lit it, and let the nicotine calm his nerves. Between the hell-in-a-hand basket that Haven seemed to be dissolving into and the fight he'd had with Holly that morning, enjoying a cigarette was the least of his worries.
She studied him, even as she pulled her coffee-colored hair back into a ponytail.
"What?" he halfway growled.
"You shouldn't smoke. It says so right there on the package." She tapped her finger on the pack of cigarettes that sat on the seat between them.
"It's either that or…"He didn't give voice to the alternative. Smoking calmed him. He wasn't going to apologize for it.
A smile formed on her lips. "Does Holly like kissing a man who tastes like smoke?"
"Probably not."
"I know I wouldn't."
"Well, it doesn't look like you have anything to worry about, now do you, Lucy? Mr. Ripley doesn't smoke."
"You shouldn't call him that. Ephraim doesn't like the nickname."
Garland chuckled. "I know."
Audrey stirred awake, though she tried to cling to the last remnants of the dreams, refusing to open her eyes just yet and completely push them from her consciousness.
The dream. No, dreams. Plural. Her mind had jumped from one to the other. No rhyme or reason.
But were they dreams? Dreams often had that surreal air, the not-quite-right-so-you-know-this-isn't-real quality. No, this felt real, so real. Memories. Been-there-done-that bona fide memories.
More memories. Odd. It was as if she stood at the floodgate, her finger plugging the hole. If only she could pull out her finger, the water would rush out, the memories would rush out. But she was stuck.
She wasn't quite sure what to make of it. The fruit. Original sin. Paradise lost. Ephraim. He had hardly seemed a monster; as Lucy she had been in love, though he kept her off kilter. Lucy had liked that about him, that he wanted her but neither could quite tame the other.
And then there was Garland.
Lucy and Garland were teasing each other—and there was chemistry there—but it didn't seem to be anything romantic. Maybe Sally Harrington had misinterpreted. Hell, maybe she straight up lied.
But there was the look on Holly's face. Holly had not trusted Lucy, just as Ephraim had not trusted Garland.
And little Nathan. She did not want to think of him as a little boy, not when the night before, they had…
Audrey's eyes flew open, and the dreams began to leave her; all that remained were impressions, ghosts.
Daylight shone through the curtains. The air had a definite chill to it, but she was surrounded by warmth. Nathan. Her own personal furnace. She lay on her side, her back against his chest, no space between them. One of his arms was under her neck, wrapped around her shoulder. The other was looped around her waist.
This was an unfamiliar bed. Definitely not hers. The bed and breakfast. Xenia, Ohio.
Last night had really happened. Her sore muscles could attest to that, but this was soreness that she actually welcomed.
Sex had never been like this. In Audrey's past, it had ranged from nice to meh, but never wow. Never I-can't-get-enough-of-you. She'd always had the attitude that if she wanted to get the job done right, she had to do it herself. Not so with Nathan. For a man who was out of practice (and nervous about being out of practice), he certainly knew what he was doing.
And she loved him. She knew it before they had made love. If things had not gone well in the bedroom, it wouldn't have made her stop loving him. But it sure didn't hurt that she'd had the best toe-curling, soul-shattering sex of her life, over and over, each time better than the last. A week ago, who'd have thought?
She lightly rubbed the hand on her waist as she felt him stir.
"Hi."
"Hi." He nuzzled her neck, eliciting a ticklish giggle from her. "You okay this morning?" Their lovemaking had alternated between being tender and vigorous. She had assured him that he had not hurt her, but…
"More than okay," she promised him. "I'm happy." It wasn't a word she used often, but it felt right. This felt right. The physical connection they shared had been intense, but it only punctuated the emotional one. There had been no declarations of love as they lay entangled in the sheets, talking about life and hopes and laughing at each other's stories. The lack of a declaration hadn't mattered. She was certain Nathan knew she loved him, just as she was certain Nathan loved her, even without the words.
"Same here. I think I'd forgotten what happiness is until you came along." And he laid it on the line. It wasn't something he often did, which made her appreciate its significance all the more.
"It was my sarcasm. People don't understand the connection between sarcasm and happiness."
"I love you, Audrey."
No sarcasm there. She didn't need the words, but the words were beautiful, nonetheless, as they fell from his lips, and she imagined his voice was velvet, caressing her with those beautiful words.
"I know." Smartass. She couldn't help herself.
Her cheeky reply drew a chuckle from him. "You're a brat."
"I know that, too." She rubbed her foot against his leg. "I'm in love with you. First time in my life that I've ever felt like this." Was it kindness or cruelty to tell him that? It was easier not to look at him, not to bare her soul while staring into those eyes. In an odd way, she didn't want to see his joy because she was scared that one day, her past would truly and finally catch up to her and all she'd see in his eyes would be pain. If she didn't see the joy, would that make the pain easier to take?
She needed answers. No doubt about that. But she had something—someone—worth fighting for.
His hand dipped below her waist. She drew in a breath from pleasure, not surprise. She always knew she liked his hands. Strong. Long, graceful fingers. But as one hand went lower, she was quite certain his were the most spectacular hands ever.
Sometime later, even as their bodies stilled after their mutual pleasure, she could feel his heart pounding against her back. Steady. True. And she was safe, sure of herself, and in love. If there ever were a Trouble to freeze a moment in time, she would want it to be this moment.
"Nice way to wake up," she murmured, her breaths raspy.
"I'm still not convinced I am awake," he replied, grinning against her shoulder.
She squirmed away from him, her movements met with protest until she rolled over and pressed herself against him, this time face to face.
"How do you feel?" she asked.
A dam burst between them. He felt like he'd been tiptoeing around what he wanted for so long for fear of scaring her off. Now he was certain she was his addiction. "Like I can't get enough of you."
"We make a good team," she replied drowsily.
He pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. "Need to sleep some more?" As he recalled, there wasn't much sleep going on the night before.
She was tired, but she didn't mind it. "We should get up, get ready. We told Sister Frances we'd be back by 9:30. Plus, I want to check in on Teddy."
But neither made a move to get up, to disentangle from the other.
Audrey groaned. "I have no willpower."
"Maybe just a little longer?" he suggested.
But sleep wasn't what he had in mind.
Ephraim Brand stared at the ceiling. The polished wood beams in his opulent bedchamber were lovely, a far cry from the thatched roof of his youth. He was warm, protected from the wind, the elements, protected from death, protected from life. Sometimes it was easy to forget his origins, but his past informed him, made him the man he had become.
Yes, the beams were lovely, though he would gladly give them up for the not nearly so lovely popcorn-finished ceiling of Lucy's apartment. It was a late 1970's decorating fad that Ephraim never fully embraced. He had laughed about it as Lucy proclaimed she liked the ceiling of her studio apartment when he'd commented on it the first time they lay in her piteously small bed. It hadn't been long before that he had found her scraping by as an artist and so full of life and fire. She was always identical in that way, no matter what she called herself. So vibrant. Audrey was the same.
It made the hunt that much more titillating. He had yet to catch her this time, but he would.
But Audrey was with Nathan Wuornos. Oh, she played coy when it came to their relationship, but a man would have to be blind to not see the way young Wuornos looked at her or the way she looked at him. The only piece of beautiful irony that made the whole sordid tale worthwhile was the knowledge that Garland Wuornos had to see it, too.
After all, it did not take much imagination to guess what they were doing on their trip to Ohio.
Twenty-seven years ago when Lucy disappeared, Garland Wuornos stood between him and the truth. All these years later, he still wasn't sure how Wuornos had done it, deprived him of her, triggered her resurgence, and ushered her away. But secrets had a way of coming out, and sometimes they were helped along.
Ephraim glanced at the clock. Any moment now, the bus should arrive at the station and on it, a man who had not stepped foot in Haven in many years would emerge, a return trip from Shawshank. Like a puzzle, the pieces would come together, with a little urging.
And yet Ephraim couldn't keep an errant thought from entering his mind. He wondered what the ceiling looked like where Audrey slept.
The towel slung low on Nathan's hips afforded Audrey quite a view. Droplets of water ran down his chest and disappeared into the cloth. They had taken separate showers; she was adamant they both had to get ready, but unfortunately, they kept getting sidetracked. Look, don't touch, she silently warned herself. This had never been a problem before. Of course, she had never experienced such satisfaction before, either.
Nathan caught Audrey's gaze and realized she was studying him with appreciation. He yanked at the towel and used it to wipe the water from his hair before running it over his chest and then tossing it to her, like a rock star casting a handkerchief off stage. She shot him a 'you've-got-to-be-kidding-me look,' but her façade cracked and she broke down laughing when he winked at her. Sex had done wonders for Nathan's ego.
He rummaged through his overnight bag to find a pair of boxer briefs, jeans, and a Henley. In the process, a small foil packet fell out of the bag. Audrey picked it up and dropped it back into the bag, but not before seeing numerous foil-wrapped condoms.
She chuckled. "You were prepared."
"Hopeful," he replied pulling his underwear up his long legs and then adjusting himself.
"With all those, I'd go with optimistic."
He reached for his jeans. One foot in, then the other, until he lifted the material up to his waist and fastened his pants. Such a shame, she thought.
"As it turns out, I had reason to be." Oh, yes, he was definitely proud of himself.
"But would you have even been able to feel with one on?"
"Don't know. But you would have felt me. Thought maybe if nothing else, I could at least give you some pleasure."
"And see, it's answers like that which make me want to make sure you feel everything."
"I did." And he had. Her warmth. The softness of her skin. The strength of her body. The vibration of her laughter. The moisture of her unexpected tears as the intensity of the emotion built within her. The absolute bliss as he moved within her tight sheathe. The gentle breaths that she let out against his chest, his neck. Pressure building. Release. Ecstasy. Her fingertips running down the small of his back, ever-so-lightly. He'd never known anything like it. Whether he had become so much more sensitive to sexual pleasure having gone without it for so long or whether it was sexual compatibility with Audrey, he couldn't be sure. All he knew was that even as he looked at her now pulling on a light blazer over her camisole, all he wanted to do was peel off the layers, the dark jeans, the tiny swath of fabric underneath, and lose himself in her again. He wanted to love her with every part of himself.
The night before—and this morning—they'd not used protection. That was a first for him, and when he had pumped his seed deep within her without any barriers, the act struck him as far more intimate. Before he had entered her the first time, she told him it was fine, but now he wondered if they had both been caught up in the moment. If they had created a child together, it probably wouldn't have been the most opportune time. Would either of them be able to fight the Troubles with an infant in tow? But the thought of a child with her made his heart melt a bit.
Holding the embodiment of their love.
Maybe someday.
For now, he intended to enjoy this newfound aspect of their partnership.
Audrey withdrew a thin, circular object from her bag. At first glance it looked like a compact, but when she opened it, Nathan could see pills all in a line and secured in place by plastic, minus a few that were missing. "I was prepared, too. I think the nuns would be very disappointed in me."
That answers that question, he thought to himself. "Not just for the Pill," Nathan replied with a crooked smile. "What we did last night and this morning…," he leaned down and brushed his lips against hers, his words lost in the kiss.
"I don't have time for another shower," she said between kisses, though she had to admit that she wasn't exactly discouraging his hands from roving her body. When they broke the kiss, Audrey moved back, shaking her head and chuckling.
"What?" Nathan asked.
"It's true what they say. It's the quiet ones you have to look out for. You snuck up on me. I thought I was content to do my own thing. I knew you to be a great guy, but I just never…any thought of more, I always pushed aside. I thought friendship was all there was between us, and I didn't want to ruin that."
"And now?"
"I'm just thinking of the mechanics of kicking my own ass. How could I not see this—us—sooner? I'm not sure I would know how to go back to being just your friend, and that scares me."
"Why? We know how we feel."
"We've got a lot working against us," she stated bluntly.
"Where's all this coming from?"
"Just being realistic. For one, your dad has made it clear that he will not sanction a relationship between us."
"It's none of his business if we choose to be in a relationship with each other. We are two consenting adults."
"Actually, it is his business. He's the police chief, and we're partners on his police force."
"Then we keep it professional on the job. But what we choose to do off the clock is up to us."
"I think we should keep this," she pointed between herself and Nathan, "between us."
He sat on the edge of the bed and studied her as she hopped around on one foot putting on her shoe. "Guess that rules out you moving in with me."
Audrey laughed, "That wouldn't exactly be on the down low."
"As far as everyone else is concerned, you could be my roommate." He suggested it with a put-on innocence.
"And that I'm coming to your room to bring you hot cocoa at night and tuck you in? No one is that naïve, but it's a nice thought. We'll just have to be careful."
"I liked waking up with you in my arms this morning," he stated unabashedly.
"I liked waking up with you, too, but on the bright side, all the sneaking around will probably be really, really hot."
"Yep. I guess we'll see if there's anything to this forbidden fruit thing."
Audrey blinked twice. Forbidden fruit. The words briefly zapped her back to her dream. Memory? "But we can't fool ourselves into thinking this is going to be easy."
"I want to work toward a life with you. That means at some point, we're going to be out in the open."
"I want that, too, but…"
"But?"
"The chief isn't the only concern I have. There's also Ephraim."
Nathan half snorted. "We managed to not talk about him for a whole twelve hours. Was nice while it lasted."
She sat next to him on the bed. "I can't pretend he doesn't exist."
"He wouldn't let you if you tried."
"Look, I don't trust him. And you can wipe off that 'I told you so' look."
Nathan considered her words. "What changed your mind?"
"I never trusted him."
"Oh, come on. You thought he was intriguing."
"That's not the same as trusting him. Look, he's been too interested in you for my taste."
"He's not my type," Nathan deadpanned.
"Very funny. I don't want him to know we're more than work partners, not until I've figured out how to handle him."
"So what? When you say handle him, do you mean by giving him hope that you and he will…"
"No. Absolutely not. But I'm not going to have you in his crosshairs."
"Parker, I'm going to be the same place I've always been. By your side."
"Lucy—I—left for a reason. I need to find out why. Would be great if I could actually remember."
"Have you remembered anything else? A moment ago when I said something about forbidden fruit, you got a look on your face."
She shrugged. "Nothing helpful."
"But you have remembered something."
"I've been having dreams that seem very real, but I can't even remember half of them."
"Your past with Ephraim?"
"That's part of it, but it's hazy. I don't know." She tried to brush aside the apprehension that gnawed at her stomach. Or was that hunger? "You want breakfast?"
Nathan nodded. "I could go for some pancakes."
"How did I know?"
When Nathan and Audrey arrived at the orphanage, they spotted Teddy in the chicken yard tending to the birds. Teddy turned at the sound of the engine and the cracking of the gravel and smiled broadly, a complete turnabout from the morose girl they had met the day before. By the time Nathan stopped the engine and the two of them got out of the car, the teenager had already bounded over the fence and was at Audrey's side.
"I'm so glad you're here!" Teddy greeted Audrey with a hug. "Last night I talked to Sammy."
Audrey was almost startled by the hug and took a moment to respond. "That's great news."
"Mrs. Hopkins said it was you," Teddy said pulling back. "You're the one who changed her mind."
"I'm just glad I could help."
"They're coming this afternoon to talk with me about arrangements. Any advice?"
"Be polite. Show her you have your brother's best interest at heart. Maybe lay off the eye makeup."
Teddy giggled. "You sound like Sister Agatha."
"That's not something I hear every day."
"I just—I can't thank you enough." Teddy threw her arms around Audrey again. "You've given me back my family."
Despite her best efforts to avoid them, tears welled in Audrey's eyes. She looked to Nathan, who stood a few feet away with a look of pride and adoration on his face. He mouthed I love you.
And as she looked at him, she couldn't help but think she'd found her family, as well.
A few minutes later Audrey and Nathan made their way to the front door of the stone house. It was 9:30 a.m. on the dot. The door swung open before either had the chance to ring the bell. Audrey expected to see Sister Frances but was instead met by a more familiar figure: Sister Agatha. She had peeled many potatoes for that woman, all in the name of life lessons. The years had tempered those memories with an odd fondness for the sometimes stern but always fair nun.
"Do you remember me?" Audrey asked as she met Sister Agatha's eyes.
"Come here, child." The older nun embraced Audrey warmly before pulling away with an almost motherly, "Let me look at you, Audrey Parker. So grown up and far too thin."
"I don't know about that," Audrey protested.
"I do," Sister Agatha insisted. The nun looked from Audrey to Nathan and back to Audrey again. "This is your young man. I can see it in the way he looks at you."
"Nathan Wuornos," Nathan responded taking the nun's proffered hand. As he studied her face, he could have sworn he saw a flicker of something in the older woman's eyes. Recognition, perhaps? But that was impossible. She hadn't been there the day before.
"Sister Agatha," the nun identified herself. "I'm not supposed to have favorites, but Audrey here was always so special to me."
"A special pain in your—" Audrey stopped her words before she cursed in front of the nun, amending her statement to "backside."
"Come in. Tell me where you've been, what you've been doing. Last I heard from you, you were in the FBI."
The duo joined the sister in the stone house. The place bustled with activity, a far cry from the afternoon before when it had been eerily quiet.
And briefly, Audrey sketched the goings-on of her life, omitting, Nathan noticed, mentions of the Troubles. As far as Sister Agatha was concerned, Audrey settled into a small town life with few complications.
"I know why you're here," Agatha finally said. "We should go speak in my office."
The sister's office was small, Spartan by any reasonable person's account. Nathan thought it made his and Audrey's shared office at the police station look like a luxury suite. The nun sat behind her desk, while gesturing toward the two wooden chairs across the desk.
"This waiting is… ," Audrey took a deep breath, forcing herself to calm. "I need to know if you're going to help me."
Agatha removed a manila folder from her desk drawer and set it on the scarred surface. "Twenty-seven years ago, when you were brought to my care, I made a vow. A vow of secrecy, a vow to keep you safe. I always honor my vows. I shall not break them."
"But not knowing my past is causing me harm."
Agatha looked at Nathan, her old eyes focusing on him. "Yes, it is." She cleared her throat. "I cannot show you what you want to see. It would trouble my conscience."
Nathan sensed something more in the nun's demeanor. "But."
Agatha coughed slightly. "I seem to have a tickle in my throat. Perhaps some water would ease it. I shouldn't be gone longer than five minutes." She stood, looked down at the folder, and then back at Audrey. "I'll be here for you, child."
After Agatha left the room, Nathan turned to Audrey. "I guess bending is not the same as breaking."
But Audrey stared looking at the folder, not immediately moving to examine it, despite the opportunity.
"Parker?"
"Why now?" she whispered. "All these years, she refused to show me, and now she leaves the papers for me to see?"
"There's one way to find out."
She nodded and finally picked it up, running her fingers over the manila folder, long aged and musty smelling. "This is it."
The document on top would have caught her eyes, whether it was on top or buried in the middle. Across the top in a large, ornate font was spelled out Relinquishment of Parental Rights.
Audrey's brow furrowed. "I had parents?" Since she had concluded that she was Lucy, she never thought she would find her parents' names among the information at the orphanage. She scoured the text, searching for their identities. She turned the next page, and her hand went limp. The folder fell to the floor, its papers cascading around them.
Nathan picked up the papers, finally finding the one that Audrey had examined and subsequently dropped. His blue eyes scanned the text. And then he saw it. Mother: Lucy Ripley (deceased). Father: Garland Wuornos.
And Nathan recognized the signature under his father's name as his father's own special variety of chicken scratch.
To be continued...
A more "adult" / expanded version of this chapter is available under the title Phoenix Rising Outtakes. I'm now going back to hide in my little corner and duck from the objects likely to be thrown at me. :)
